That Which Is Lost
by Ravenclaw992
Summary: "Emma hadn't been given the chance to cry, but now there was no stopping the flood." Emma has a conversation with Rumpelstiltskin about the never-ending tragedy that has happened to her recently while aboard Hook's ship in Neverland to rescue Henry.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything belonging to the show **_**Once Upon A Time**_**. Everything belongs to ABC. **_

_**A/N: Hello, readers. This is just a spontaneous one-shot I came up with a day or so ago and decided to write. I guess you can say it's my way of celebrating the fact that Once returns for its third season tomorrow. Also, I had it in my head for a long time that Emma really, really could use a good meltdown after everything she's been through. So, I hope you enjoy the one-shot. **_

_**That Which Is Lost**_

Emma shivered for the third time in the span of a minute and tugged the folds of her jacket tighter over her chest to block the incoming gusts of Neverland's winds. If she knew the weather was going to be this low during the long nights, she might have brought a heavier jacket before bounding off on a rescue mission for her lost son.

The black waters below the ship's rail matched the vast emptiness above. It was akin to sailing through a midnight sky or an endless tunnel constructed of overwhelming black felt: there was no illumination of stars or moon to guide their way and the lanterns hanging from hooks on every side of the ship were in danger of being snuffed out, the charred wicks bent like thin bodies in mourning.

Appropriate, considering the tumult of emotions she currently waded through. It was the same as sinking in quicksand; if she struggled, the emotions would suck her down and suffocate her. The end.

She tilted her head to the black sky, deeply inhaling the salty air and swaying as the ship rocked back and forth. She made an earnest attempt to sift through her tangled thoughts. Was Henry shivering somewhere out there? Was he alone or was he with Tamara and Greg? Would he hold onto hope that she would come?

Then one of the questions she was most hesitant to ask: was Neal dead, his body lifeless and washed up on the shore of some unknown world? Everything happened so fast...the flashes of emerald haunted Emma's memory...Tamara shot him once...maybe, just maybe...

"_Bella notte_," a seductive voice unexpectedly shattered the silence from somewhere close behind her. At such close proximity, she should have realized someone was standing there; how had he slipped under her radar? Emma gasped aloud and jumped at least a mile in the air. She whirled around, her hand habitually flying to her gun on her hip.

It was only Rumpelstiltskin.

Dressed elegantly in his charcoal suit, he blended all too well in the shadows, reminding her that he was first and foremost a creature of darkness. It took Emma a moment to spot him standing there before he glided to her side against the unsteady rail. He didn't bother to apologize for scaring her half to death, which made her anger flare.

Why did he insist on sneaking up on those unsuspecting? Did he find some sick amusement out of doling out heart attacks faster than McDonald's?

On the subject of McDonald's, she craved a greasy Big Mac and a large portion of even greasier fries slathered in ketchup. If she had to eat chimera again...

"What the hell?" Emma huffed through her nose, struggling to calm her racing heart. She was certain Rumpelstiltskin could hear its rhythm, since he was adept at everything else in life.

His wise brown eyes seemed to laugh at her through the darkness. Only the lines webbing across his skin from his eyelids suggested how tired he was, physically and emotionally.

"Someone requires a bit of brushing up on their Disney knowledge," he remarked, his Scottish accent tinged with mockery. Emma forced her expression to remain hard, unwilling to admit she did not understand his meaning. That would be stroking his ego. At least she was more fluent in Rumpelstiltskin's language than Regina's. "_Bella notte_. Italian for _beautiful night_."

His weathered hand gestured to the silhouettes enveloping this unfamiliar land. Emma jolted, swearing she saw a bubble rise to the surface of the water. Hook warned that there were all sorts of deadly creatures lurking beneath the glassy surface, namely mermaids. Not the singing, hair-twirling ones like in _The Little Mermaid_, either.

Hook nearly had an aneurysm from laughing when he heard that one.

Emma became aware of Gold's searing gaze on her body. It was like a laser beam trailing its way up and down; she sensed every spot it landed. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that a picture would last longer, but the last time she said that was when she was a kid bouncing between foster homes. She refused to be seen as childish by someone like him.

"Did you have something else to say with that fortune cookie tongue of yours or are you just going to stand there leering?" Emma snapped, transmitting the message: go away. Rumpelstiltskin did not take offense from her whiplash. Instead, he chuckled shortly, as if she told a mildly humorous joke.

She wondered if her parents told the truth when they claimed Rumpelstiltskin giggled like someone who inhales helium for kicks. It might be enough to scare the mermaids away...and everyone on this ship.

"I'm sorry. I must have missed the sign that said _Now Entering Emma's Half of the Ship: All Intruders Beware of Loaded Gun," _he quipped dryly. Emma curled her hand into a fist by her side, especially when his eyes lingered doubtfully on her weapon of choice. "To slake your curiosity, sleep eluded me. Your parents are snuggling in one bed and won't stop talking cute to one another, Regina is shooting off fireworks with her magic, and that pitiful excuse of a pirate is drunk off his arse and singing off-key. I've never missed my bed more than I do tonight."

"I hear you," Emma agreed, rubbing the knot out of her neck. The two exchanged wary looks as they realized there was something they both had in common. They averted their eyes, taking great interest in the deck that was in desperate need of washing.

If ever there was a vote, it would be Regina on her knees with a toothbrush.

Another icy wind blew up from the water and Emma shivered violently despite her vow never to show weakness in front of someone like Rumpelstiltskin. She didn't know if it was produced by magic, but suddenly he stepped forward and draped a woolen blanket over her shoulders. His fingers brushed her neck briefly, soothingly warm against the biting chill. Even so, Emma jerked away as if she'd been zapped, forcing him to return to his previous distance. He wore a bemused pout, resembling a dog that had just been kicked for no good reason. Her parents did enough of that.

"Thank you," she grudgingly obliged, taking comfort in the extra layer. Rumpelstiltskin's lips curled in something shy of a smile.

"Anything for our blessed savior." She couldn't tell if he was ridiculing her or not. Everything Rumpelstiltskin said had a flipside if one looked hard enough. It made her head dizzy every time she talked to him. "Something on your mind, dearie?"

Emma snorted, turning her back on his probing question. That was an understatement. Where should she start? There was the terrifying truth that her only son was missing in a world she didn't understand, Neal might be dead, and Storybrooke was on the verge of being reduced to nothing.

But Emma already knew she was not going to say any of that. She wasn't keen on letting Rumpelstiltskin peer into her heart any more than necessary. Once that man sunk his teeth in, he would only crave more. And with his honeyed charm, tempting as a Venus fly trap, it was hard to imagine that she would refuse.

She stiffened under the blanket, muscles growing rigid, nerves strung tight as piano wire. She crossed her arms over her chest, protecting herself from those wandering eyes.

"I'm fine," she insisted flatly. Rumpelstiltskin made a condescending noise in the back of his throat, something between a grunt and a snicker. Emma rounded on him immediately, green eyes glittering with contempt. "What?"

Rumpelstiltskin held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Nothing, nothing...except...it appears you've reconstructed that wall you've strived so hard to dismantle. Reverting, are we, _Em-ma?" _Why did he say her name that way? It was always alluring and disturbing at the same time. Her response was to glower.

"I'm not-" He cut off her defense with a low tsk-tsk, his tongue clucking and his finger wagging reprovingly.

"_De-ni-al_," he sang, "is not just a river in Egypt." Emma scowled. So the man wanted the whole, gritty truth? If he insisted...

"Fine," she barked, flinging the woolen blanket at his fancy Italian shine-shoed feet. She didn't need the blanket's insulation now that her blood was boiling at the temperature of lava. "You want the ugly truth about how I feel right now? I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm cold, I almost died in an apocalypse in Storybrooke, I fought my ex's fiancee, I watched him fall through a portal after getting shot by the same fiancee, which means he's probably dead, my son was taken from me by his fiancee and some deranged guy with a vendetta against all things magic, Hook won't quit hitting on me, and now I'm standing on a ship that's floating somewhere in Neverland! With all that in mind, I'm this close," she pinched her fingers together, so slim they were almost touching, _"this close _to punching someone in the face, namely that smug, smarmy, rum-smelling pirate who continues to have an affair with the floor. Satisfied?"

Emma gulped down several deep breaths of the salty uncontaminated air, her cheeks red and her chest heaving from her emotional eruption. Rumpelstiltskin allowed a minute or two to pass before speaking.

"Feel better?" Emma paused to consider it.

"Yes," she admitted. In fact, she felt better than she had in days! It felt like a giant boulder had lifted from her shoulders. "You should try it sometime." He smirked.

"If I vented that way, you and I would be standing here for a very, very, _very_ long time." He waved his hand over the abandoned woolen blanket at his feet, whisking it away to only-Rumpelstiltskin-knew-where. The next time his head rose, he was frowning thoughtfully. "You know how people generally say _I know how you feel_, but they truthfully haven't the slightest idea? I _know_ how you _feel_, Emma."

For the first time, Rumpelstiltskin did not resemble the all-powerful, ethereal being that could outlive them all. For once, he looked his age, centuries of grief and loneliness warring for control over his face. Emma felt a small pang of sympathy for him as she leaned her elbows on the rail. After all, the man became corrupted with power, lost his son twice in the same manner, and said farewell to his true love for the umpteenth time with no promise of seeing her again.

"How do you cope with it?" He tilted his head questioningly, not quite catching her drift. "With having your heart torn out of your chest time and again and having someone virtually do the Macarena on it?"

Rumpelstiltskin visibly grew grim, his expression darkening.

"Many people-naive people, mind you-will tell you it gets easier. What you do, _dearie_, is shove that mutilated heart back in your chest and keep telling yourself that the bleeding will stop someday. It must stop. You take solace in the memories you have and mourn those you will never create. You drag one foot in front of the other until it no longer feels you're toting around several pillars of stone, and you tell youerself that it was good while it lasted, that it's not the end of the world as you know it. One day, you may even believe it."

Emma gawked speechlessly. There was no way Rumpelstiltskin wasn't speaking from experience. It made her feel pity for him all over again.

"In other words, you hide and run away from the pain?" He shook his head.

"No. You don't run. You survive."

He paused to let his words sink in. It left her bones filled with cold and numbness. She respected Rumpelstiltskin for not regenerating false phrases such as _everything will be okay _and _look on the bright side_. Memories of her time with Neal and Henry flashed in front of her eyes.

"I miss him," she moaned, unable to decipher which one she was talking about. It was impossible to fixate on only one of them, since both their faces haunted her mind. "I love him," she whispered, hanging her head.

Angry tears blurred her vision. A splitting headache plagued her temples, driving her mad with its incessant throbbing, and her shoulders convulsed as she struggled to hold back the sobs building in her throat. She hadn't been given the chance to cry before, but now there was no stopping the flood.

Apparently, Rumpelstiltskin was not socially inclined to deal with sobbing women. He awkwardly patted her on the back and offered her a silk black handkerchief from inside his suit to dry her eyes. She dabbed the moisture away and blew her nose into it. She tried to hand it back, but he insisted she keep it. It was probably the only thing she'd ever get from him for free. The handkerchief must have been expensive, even branded in gold thread with his initials: _RG_. She wondered what the R stood for-Rumpelstiltskin, maybe?-but she was too preoccupied with her emotions to ask.

After she had finished crying, the two of them stared at the inky rippling waters below, hardly saying a word. Every once in a while, Emma would sniffle and the ship would creak, but there was nothing but silence besides. Finally, Rumpelstiltskin drew in a breath.

"I may have lost my son, but it would be tragic for you to lose both your love and your son. I am here aboard this ship because I intend to do everything in my power to rescue Henry. Perhaps I can even offer you a lesson or two in the ways of magic, allow you to upgrade from that ruddy piece of metal on your hip."

Emma's hand flew to her gun.

"What's wrong with my gun?" Rumpelstiltskin cocked an eyebrow dubiously.

"Tell me, how well do guns fare against Ogres?" Emma cringed at the memory of shooting off her gun and nearly becoming Ogre-food. If it hadn't been for her mother's amazing archery skills, she wouldn't even be alive and Henry would be motherless.

And here she was, in an unfamiliar world again.

So Snow decided to tell Rumpelstiltskin about their fairytale adventure, did she?

"There are no Ogres in Neverland," Emma retorted matter-of-factly. She already inquired about that threat when setting off on their journey. She smiled proudly at Rumpelstiltskin, waiting for his clever retaliation of wordplay.

"No," he admitted, which resulted in Emma's widening smile that screamed I told you so. "The beings in this land are far worse." Emma's smile faltered. Oh.

She bit the inside of her cheek, wondering if she should take Rumpelstiltskin up on that offer of magic lessons. Now that she accepted the fact that she had magic, it would benefit everyone on the ship if she learned to control it, harness it. No need to burn down the ship accidentally.

He must have sensed her internal debate. He gave a small bow and his hand flourished gracefully. A purple fog enveloped his hand and suddenly there was a fresh white rose tucked between his fingers. He inhaled its sweet fragrance and then offered it to her. Emma hesitated in taking it.

"What's this for?" Surely Rumpelstiltskin wasn't seeking comfort out of heartache and the idea that he would never see Belle again?

"Proof that not all magic is black at heart," he drawled, tipping the petals so that they brushed softly over her hand.

She humored him enough to take the rose, praying that no one asked where it came from in the morning. Then again, maybe it would get Hook's slimy flirtations off her back. Or else it would just ignite them all the more to know his rival was vying for attention.

"Ask me in the morning," she murmured, stalking past him with the rose twirling between her fingers.

If anything, having Rumpelstiltskin teach her magic would be better than having Regina do it. That was a disaster waiting to happen. Regina would get frustrated if Emma did it wrong, Emma would get frustrated, they'd start screaming at each other, and the next thing you knew, they'd be floating on doors like Rose in _Titanic_.

She glanced back over her shoulder to see Rumpelstiltskin remaining at the rail of the ship, solemnly staring out into the distance. They were two grieving souls in the same boat, ironically.

"Goodnight, Rumpelstiltskin," she called out to him, rasing the rose in salute.

He met her eyes through the darkness and she thought she saw a hint of a smile. It couldn't have been a trick of the light, considering there wasn't any. Maybe it was a trick of the shadows, instead. She turned her back on him and tumbled headfirst into sleep the minute her head hit the pillow.

Rumpelstiltskin watched Emma go, leaving him alone on the deck of the ship. All of a sudden, the temperature of the wind seemed to drop ten degrees. He sincerely hoped she would take up his offer of learning magic. With a little bit of time and an earnest effort of practice, she would be their secret weapon on this rescue mission.

"Goodnight, Emma," he whispered, his voice lost with the wind.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: First off, I'd like to happily thank all those readers that left such wonderful reviews for this story. It wasn't really meant to be a story, but somehow my one-shots usually turn into stories because my inspiration starts going to work and won't quit bugging me. With that being said, I decided to see where my writing would take me. It will most likely be different from the events that unfold on the show concerning Neverland (at least, I hope it will be). **_

_**Here's to hoping everyone enjoys part two. **_

Morning came much too soon on the Jolly Roger. There were no windows below deck-nothing but rusty swinging oil lanterns, a musty odor from water leaking over everything, and the occasional squeak of invisible, scurrying rats. According to Hook's drunken slurs the previous night, he'd been trying to catch those rats for ages. No bars of sunlight stirred Emma, but her biological clock foretold that it was the early hours of the morning.

Not that the sunlight would have really mattered much. It wouldn't have interrupted any sweet dreams. The violent rolling of the ship, mixed with ongoing nightmares of Henry and Neal, with a dose of Hook's guttural snoring ensured that she only tossed and turned restlessly. It didn't help that the poor excuse of a bed was obviously not her comfy, familiar one back home.

She never thought she would miss Storybrooke so much.

Needless to say, Emma reluctantly rolled onto her side, groaned monstrously loud as she forced her stiff body into a sitting position, and rubbed the sleep out of her corneas with her fist. She had little memory of rising, combing her fingers through the nest that was her blonde hair, or trudging her way up the rickety wooden steps to the deck.

The only detail her mind clung to hopelessly was the brilliant flash of white as the rose fell from her pillow. Its petals had been a bit smothered in her sleep, but otherwise it appeared as delicate as the moment Rumpelstiltskin offered it to her via magical means. Emma quickly tucked it under her pillow in case someone should spot her holding it and jump to conclusions.

It was only a rose.

The only thing whiter and brighter than the rose was the startling sunlight when Emma emerged from below deck. It rendered her blind, making her eyelids instinctively clench shut. She swayed unsteadily, the ship tilting under her weary feet, and her hand flew out to catch something before she fell over. The thing she grabbed onto was strong and sturdy and...leathery? No, those were scales under her fingertips. Like a blind person reading Braille, she traced the curve of each scale as it joined flawlessly with the next. Did Hook keep a pet dragon on board or was dragon skin simply the must-have style in this world?

Experimentally, as her eyes strained to adjust, her hand slid lower across the rough contours of the fabric until she felt a shift in material. The warmth of bare flesh made the pads of her fingers tingle.

"Emma-" Her mother's voice cautioned from somewhere behind her. There was a short snort on the heels of it. It sounded like it came from a horse, but Emma suspected it was only Regina. Black and red colors swarmed before her tired eyes, her sight gradually returning. A gentle hand clasped her by the wrist, directing her hand away from the sensation of skin.

"I once told you I liked you, Miss Swan...but not that much. Don't want anyone to get the wrong idea," Rumpelstiltskin softly chided, a hint of amusement wrapping his words in the caramel of his accent. Her eyelids shot wide apart. It was Rumpelstiltskin that restrained her hand and it was his chest she'd been feverishly feeling up. Heat rushed to her cheeks and she wriggled her wrist from his grasp. Hook loomed behind the wheel, appearing quite jealous. Charming sported a stern expression on his face, his chest puffed, inches shy of throwing a punch at Rumpelstiltskin.

"Hands off my daughter," he snapped coldly. Snow stood unwavering and resolute by her husband, exchanging curious glances between Emma and Rumpelstiltskin. Regina hid her growing smirk behind her spidery palm.

_ "She's_ the one who latched onto _me_," Rumpelstiltskin argued, hooking his thumb to Emma. Her jaw dropped following his bluntness. She was temporarily blind! What was she supposed to do? Fall overboard?

That was when she noticed his change in wardrobe.

"What the hell are you wearing? Did you raid Steven Tyler's closet before we left Storybrooke?"

Rumpelstiltskin brushed his hands along the length of the sleek sleeves coating his arms, defensively angling his body away from Emma. She gawked at his choice of apparel from head to toe. Even better question: what had he done with the priceless suit that he once wore so well?

"Believe it or not, this style was all the rage once upon a time," Rumpelstiltskin shot back hotly. Emma might have been shocked by Rumpelstiltskin's drastic change in clothing, but she didn't miss the exchange of awkward glances between her parents. Oh, god, they hadn't worn this stuff, had they? "It'd be best if we belnded in while invading this world. Fabric as foreign as blue jeans and Italian shoes would be a dead giveaway. You're the one who will stick out like a sore thumb, not me."

Rumpelstiltskin dared to aim his finger at Emma's chest. He clucked his tongue as he examined her at his leisure.

"You might benefit from a change of clothing yourself, _Princess_," he said, the slippery sound of the last word slithering from his mouth in snake-like fashion. His finger rose and fell, gesturing to her wrinkled modern blouse, worn jeans, and scuffed boots. She glared at the hovering digit.

"If you so much as think of putting me in a corset, I'll bite that finger off," she grumbled. Rumpelstiltskin reeled his finger into his palm before Emma could make good on her threat.

"Why stop at the finger? I say go for the whole hand," Hook chimed in from behind the wheel, so obviously eavesdropping on their conversation. It earned him a scathing stare from his former rival. If it weren't for their recent truce, Hook might already be dangling upside-down over the ocean, Rumpelstiltskin's form of mutiny. Snow and Charming were appalled by the comment; Regina intensely amused.

"Ready for your first lesson, dearie?" Rumpelstiltskin flitted to Emma's side and nudged her elbow. She rocked clumsily on her feet, drained of energy as she was. A deep-throated moan bubbled from her slightly parted lips, betraying her lack of enthusiasm.

"It can't wait until after I have breakfast?" Her stomach growled to emphasize her hunger. Rumpel gave a quick shake of the head.

"The only breakfast you'll find in Neverland at the moment is the fish from the sea. Think of it like a buffet: all you can eat so long as you catch it yourself."

Emma eyed the harpoons and the tangled net on the deck dubiously. That was one lesson she missed growing up: how to survive if she mysteriously found herself in a magical land complete with shadows with minds of their own, mermaids with a desire to kill you instead of sing harmoniously, and a pack of teenage kids that dubbed themselves Neverland's version of Hell's Angels.

"When does the lesson start?" Rumpel clapped his hands together gleefully.

"What lesson?" Charming protectively stepped between his daughter and Rumpelstiltskin. Snow did not spare the dealmaker a glance; instead she eyed Emma suspiciously. Of all the people to be taking lessons from, Rumpelstiltskin was very low on the list, but a few rungs above Regina.

Rumpel rolled his brown eyes.

"Why, magic, of course," he trilled, flourishing his arms eccentrically. Emma tilted her head in light of the odd behavior. She started to think the air in this place was going to Rumpelstiltskin's head. Or was there something in the water?

"It wasn't satisfying enough to corrupt my mother and me with the taste of magic? You're seeking to corrupt our precious savior, too?" Regina snidely remarked, ebony irises flaring. Rumpel grimaced, surveying Regina as he might a deadly serpent or pestering rodent. Only his eyes flickered her way, the rest of his body protesting to her presence.

"Please, Your Majesty. Your mother was hardly the epitome of goodness when I met her. Snow's spoiled brat of a mother guaranteed that," he taunted. Regina and Snow bore matching expressions of outrage. Now it was Snow who appeared ready to hit something. She launched her fist toward his face, fueled by that black spot on her heart, but he calmly cast a magical shield that her strength could not break. "And by all means, share some of your magical wisdom with Emma. Teach her what _not _to do."

Regina's eyelids narrowed to slits. Emma held her breath, waiting to see if Regina would take that challenge. She prayed Regina would be too arrogant and greedy of her power to lend it over to Emma.

"Never mind," Regina muttered, flipping her short hair.

"That's what I thought," Rumpelstiltskin sneered. His rudeness dissipated miraculously as he looked upon Emma once more. The personality of the gentlemanly dealmaker snapped back into place like a rubber band, starting with a tiny bow. "Shall we begin?"

Emma didn't ask the price for his lessons-in her heart, she knew there must be one. This could not simply be an act of kindness to encourage her son's safety. But Emma refused to let the inquiry pass her lips, for she had a feeling she would be willing to pay that price regardless. She boldly stepped forward to meet Rumpelstiltskin head-on, but Snow laid a hand on her wrist to stall her progress.

She tugged her daughter away from Rumpelstiltskin. Even if she could not drive her fist into his face to shatter his disarming composure, she still had the ability to shoot darts with her eyes.

"Emma, what little I know of magic has always been dark and dangerous. It consumes you; it _changes _you. No one is darker than the Dark One, hence the title," she explained carefully, worry creeping into her voice. There weren't many things that frightened Snow White apart from witnessing her family fall to pieces, but Rumpelstiltskin's unpredictable power was one of those fears.

Emma yanked her arm from her mother's grasp.

"You're trying to talk me out of it?" She was still as stone, watching for any sign of reluctance in the gracious faces of her parents. It was there, bobbing beneath the surface. Charming was the one who took control, cradling Snow in his arms.

"Your mother and I are only asking: are you sure you want to do this? There are other ways, Emma," he reasoned, almost pleading. Emma mused on the power her parents possessed-not magically, but physically. Her mother would gladly teach her how to fire an arrow from a bow with precise aim and her father would not hesitate to show her the proper ways of swordfighting.

At the same time, Emma understood there was no longer any point in denying her true identity, not when she had been running from it for so very, very long. She was the savior, daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, the product of true love. Magic coursed through her veins, whether she liked it or not. Perhaps learning to harness that power was the key to saving Henry. She would never forgive herself if she did not at least try.

"I will do whatever it takes to save my son," she vowed. With that final stroke of confidence, she turned her back on her parents and came face-to-face with her new mentor. "Where do we start?"

...

"Wrong, wrong, _wrong!" _

"Shut up, shut up, _shut up!"_

Emma and Rumpelstiltskin were red-faced, squaring off against each other. Sweat dribbled down their temples and necks, glistening under the glaring sunlight. For the past hour, Rumpelstiltskin had attempted to educate Emma in magic-casting, always making small corrections to her slumping posture and scolding her when lines of deep concentration marred her forehead and the skin beneath her eyes.

So far, the lesson had been entirely fruitless. He chalked it up to Emma's lack of honest trying or else she did not truly believe in the magic she expected to wield like a sword. Their arguing had become something of a sideshow for the other passengers on board.

"Stop thinking!" He roared, flapping his hands wildly in the air. Emma stomped her heel on the deck, a childish sign of her growing agitation.

"I am not thinking!"

"You _are _thinking! You're doing it this very instant!"

"That's because you keep telling me to stop thinking! All that leads to is me thinking about not thinking! Stop telling me to stop thinking and I might be able to do it!" Rumpel growled in annoyance while Emma matched him with a fierce scowl. He began to pace up and down the deck, his gait noticeably stronger than in Storybrooke.

"And you say I'd be a terrible teacher," Regina said, pausing in fanning her pale neck with a colorful Chinese fan she had conjured from thin air. Whereas Emma continuously failed to perform magic, Regina insisted on showing off.

_ "Shut up!"_ Emma and Rumpel rounded on Regina simultaneously, their voices clashing together. Her raven-haired head reared back as if she'd been slapped. Her eyes darted from one to the other, from Emma to Rumpelstiltskin.

"Don't you dare order me to-"

"Emma," Rumpel swiftly tuned out Regina's protests. Emma wished it were that easy. Or did that come from hours of practice, too? "I know you've always been one to demand proof in your endeavors, but right now I need you to take a leap of faith. Believe in your ability to handle magic. The act of believing does not require thinking or questioning-it involves simply _doing _and knowing in your heart you'll get results. So, _do it_."

Emma flexed her fingers, her hand blossoming to reveal her empty palm. Her green eyes burned into the center, memorizing the life lines etched there, her mind a blank slate even as she willed a flame into her hand. It didn't even have to be a flame, just a spark. Something to prove that she could do this.

But her palm remained empty.

In her peripheral vision, Rumpel opened his mouth-probably to tell her to stop thinking again-but he closed it firmly with a grunt, choosing to let her be. His knuckles kneaded his forehead as he struggled for a way to make her _understand_.

"Remember, dearie: it's not so much a thought as it is a feeling. Let yourself become vulnerable to the love you express for your son. Relive the pain of losing him to that enchanted vortex. Your body-every muscle, every tendon, every bone-burns with the desire to get him back. The fire you conjure will be a symbol of your ability to do that. Its heat singes the tips of your fingers, its glow extinguishes the shadows, its smoke tunnels its way through your nose. Feel it, breathe it into life."

Emma found herself trusting in Rumpelstiltskin's silken, silvery speech. She heard the words rebounding inside her skull without ever stopping to examine a single syllable. She closed her eyes and pictured Henry's face. No words, no other thoughts intruding, no feelings she could accurately, audibly express. Just his smiling face and the feel of his limbs encircling her waist in one of his bear hugs.

Her palm was hot.

Emma's eyelids snapped open to witness a generously-sized, dancing orange flame in the cup of her palm. It hovered an inch over her skin and writhed between her fingers in flickering tongues. Regina appeared envious of Emma's quick learning. Snow pressed her hand to her heart, Charming draped his arm around his wife's shoulders, both were entranced by the ball of fire that wondrously ignited in their daughter's hand.

Rumpel tented his fingers beneath his chin and smiled proudly.

"That's my girl," he whispered, loud enough so only Emma could hear. His hand brushed the blade of her shoulder, a token of praise for her accomplishment.

"Congratulations," Regina bitterly mocked, tipping her nose into the air. The flame in Emma's palm dimmed slightly, though it did not fully fade. "What will you do; slap the Lost Boys with your fire-fist? Do not get cocky, dear. Just because you can conjure a ball of fire does not mean you know how to wield it. You're a child playing with a loaded gun."

The word _gun _sparked Emma's interest. Rumpelstiltskin was right-she did not need the metal piece on her hip. He effectively granted her a new kind of gun and she longed to experience its capabilities. Besides, Emma was never one to reject a challenge.

Emma stretched her arm over her head and then thrust it forward, letting loose the fireball. Its aim was off, soaring toward Regina's feet instead of her head, but Regina yelped and leaped out of the way all the same. The fire died out before it landed on the ship's deck. Snow and Charming gasped at Emma's sudden boldness and Regina bared her white jaws.

"Throw fireballs at me, will you?" Regina instantly summoned a fireball into her hand. This one was much more powerful than Emma's, snaking all the way down Regina's wrist. The topmost tongues of the fire were blue. "This is how you do it, Princess."

Everything after that happened so fast.

"Stop throwing fireballs on my ship," Hook bellowed from behind the wheel. He leaped over its spindles, accidentally swerving it to the right as he did so. The ship careened sharply, sending the passengers to their knees.

Regina got back up quickly and armed herself with another fireball, the first having sizzled out when she stumbled. Rumpelstiltskin stepped in front of Emma, shielding her with his body, but it didn't seem to matter to Regina. She brought her hand back, the flame grew visibly bigger in size-

"Not my daughter, you bitch!"

Without warning, Regina was tackled by Snow, the two of them landing in a heap on the deck. Snow landed a punch on Regina's nose before Regina's knee plunged into Snow's side. Emma watched in open-mouthed horror as the two rivals rolled about, fists flying. Charming started for his wife with the intent of breaking up the fight, but Hook latched onto his arm and pulled him back.

"Listen, mate, you don't really want to-" Hook's warning was silenced as Charming's fist connected with his cheek. Hook reunited with his old lover, the floor. He rubbed his already reddening cheek and snarled up at the prince. "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"For standing in my way," Charming thundered. "And don't think I haven't noticed how hard you've been trying to seduce my daughter!"

Hook lurched to his feet, in time for Charming to grab a fistful of the pirate's jacket and sending him reeling against the rail. Snow managed to gain her footing, only to have Regina toss her backwards with a wave of magic. Regina threw her hands in the air, her fingers curling like claws.

Above their heads, thunder boomed and the bright morning sky descended into darkness. Thick black clouds rolled across the sun and the waves of the ocean crashed against the side of the ship. Forked white lightning split the sky and zapped Regina's fingers. The electricity crackled in her hand, giving her access to a new element of power.

Regina thrust the lightning in Snow's direction, but Snow dodged it, flattening her body over the rail. If she leaned any farther over it, she would fall into the ocean. The crashing waves increased, each one more violent than the last. Emma's back hit the rail, her knees failing to support her body as the Jolly Roger tumbled over the waves.

Somehow, she knew Regina was responsible for the storm.

"Stop fighting," she yelled over the wind and thunder, but her voice was ripped from her throat. They couldn't hear her. Madness consumed their senses, limbs were tangling, fresh blood dripped onto the deck. Emma lunged away from the rail, setting her sights on her mother and Regina, but an arm looped around her waist, holding her back.

"Let them go," Rumpelstiltskin murmured into the shell of her ear. He hissed as Emma's nails dug into his arm, dragging up the sleeve, but he refused to relent. "Believe me when I say that this fight is long overdue."

A particularly fearsome wave collided with the Jolly Roger and water splashed onto the deck, making it slick enough to compromise the footing of those that fought. Charming and Hook now unleashed their swords, the steel clashing in time with the thunder overhead. Snow dodged another of Regina's lightning bolts before aiming for the queen's throat, all the while yelling about Regina ruining her life.

"Let _me _go," Emma cried, pushing and digging at Rumpelstiltskin's arm. It was formidable as a metal belt hugging her waist, refusing to yield no matter how hard she twisted. This fight was her fault in the first place; she should never have thrown that fireball at Regina.

Another jagged fork of lightning illuminated the sky and Emma peered up at the angry clouds, wondering how long the storm would last. And then she noticed something that sent a boulder hurtling into her stomach. Rumpelstiltskin registered her stillness and turned his head to see what she was looking at so horrifically. No one else on the ship heeded it.

A monster of a wave, rising steadily into the air far above the Jolly Roger's deck, threatened to swallow the ship. It was almost like watching it in slow-motion. Emma saw the way the wave curled at the top, ready to come crashing down without mercy, the ship being sucked into its path. Rumpelstiltskin held her all the tighter against his body and this time she did not struggle.

Hook was the first to glimpse it over Charming's shoulder, their blades crossed in an X. His jaw dropped and the sword clattered onto the deck.

"Give up?" Charming grinned victoriously. Hook pointed into the sky.

"You have a new opponent on your heels, mate," Hook mumbled, his words lost in the thunder.

Charming had enough sense to follow the direction of Hook's finger to the massive wave heading for their ship. The desire to continue the fight vanished and he searched for Snow through the sheet of rain pounding over their heads. She was being held down against the rail with Regina's hands around her neck.

"Snow!" He didn't know whether she heard him or whether she sensed the impending danger, but her head cranked slightly, her eyes meeting the crystal blue ones belonging to her husband. Charming sought out Emma across the deck. "Emma!"

He took one step toward his daughter, but it was already too late. As steadily as the wave went up, it came down.

Salt-water rained down over their heads, drilling into the deck of the Jolly Roger. Its bitter taste poured into Emma's mouth and blurred her vision, her eyes stinging. The water clogged her nostrils, burning it raw. The ship seemed to launch upwards into the air, Emma's feet lifting straight off the deck. She no longer felt Rumpelstiltskin's grasp chaining her in place; somehow she slipped out of it. Her hand flew out behind her, scrambling for the rail of the ship, but it wasn't there anymore...

And then Emma dived facefirst into the frigid depths of the ocean.

The waves tumbled over her head, snapping it in several directions at once. Her limbs flailed, frantically searching for something to grab onto, maybe even the side of the ship. If she knew where the ship was, those still on board could help her get back up on deck. Where was the ship? Where was up?

Her body flipped and somersaulted through the water, her lungs aching for air. The moment her head broke through the surface, another wave sent her under. She made the mistake of opening her mouth underwater and the cold sea invaded, filling her with its undrinkable saltiness.

Were the others still aboard the ship? Did they even notice she had fallen overboard?

Something nudged her leg, immediately sending her into a panic. She remembered Hook's warning about the mermaids, dragging the bodies of desirable men underwater to their deep-sea caverns to do any number of unimaginable things. There were never any survivors to testify about those deeds. If that was what the mermaids did to lost men floating at sea, what did they do to the women? Envy them? Drown them?

The desire to breathe became too demanding. She was still choking on the gulp of water from having opened her mouth earlier, but she was helpless to do it again, the water filling her to the brim and taking advantage of her increasing weakness. Black dots danced in front of her eyes, threatening her with unconsciousness. If she passed out now, she was dead.

And the mermaid or whoever it was had pulled her firmly against its chest, swimming away with her. She fought back for a minute before her muscles grew sluggish, her brainpower diminishing. Her head lolled in the water and she ceased to resist, merely drifting on the current and letting it take her where it wished.

Her last thought was a solemn one.

_I'm so sorry, Henry. _

...

"Come on, sweetheart. Stay with me," Rumpel moaned against the water attempting to infiltrate his mouth. He spat some of it out, only to suck it back in a second later as another wave pummeled his body. His head barely stayed above the surface for more than a few seconds and it was even more of a challenge carrying Emma's now limp body. They were stranded in the middle of the ocean, too far away from any spot of land to swim to shore.

He realized he needed to save his breath since any chance of fresh air was quickly running out, but, gods, he needed Emma to _wake up. _Their savior couldn't possibly have come all this way to find her son only to drown in the ocean. Normally, he wouldn't care enough for someone who had fallen overboard to risk his own life in a rescue attempt, but it sickened him to think of deliberately leaving Henry both fatherless and motherless. He'd never forgive himself that mistake after having left Bae fatherless for centuries.

The waves were calming down. The worst of the battle had ended.

He craned his neck to watch the rest of the Jolly Roger tilt at an unnatural angle, performing a nosedive into the ocean. He hadn't seen what became of the others on board before his body was tossed into the water shortly after Emma's. The last he had seen of the battle, Regina had been winning against Snow and Charming was fighting hard to reach Emma before she disappeared over the rail. Their heads were nowhere to be seen among the wreckage-whether they were above the surface or underneath, it was no longer his concern.

He and Emma had to reach shore before another inconvenient danger-another storm, this one natural-born, or lurking mermaids-decided to tempt fate. Balancing her uncomfortable weight on his chest and falling beneath the surface, he summoned a last ounce of magic that was meant to take them safely to shore. _Land, _he channeled visually inside his mind. _Dry, safe, warm land. _

The seductive power vined around his veins and formed a cocoon of safety around him and Emma. The waves softened in rhythm, pushing their bodies toward the nearest potion of land. The last he saw of the Jolly Roger was its back end crookedly sticking up in the air and the black flag snapping in the wind.

The only thing left floating on the waves after its descent was a single white rose.

...

_**For the record, I'm not entirely sure where this story will lead, but I have a few ideas up my sleeve. For now, I'd like to give a shout-out to all the readers who reveiwed last chapter. **_

_**Fairy Demon26: Once again, thank you for reading and pointing out my mistake in the first chapter. I appreciate it. (-;**_

_**Ismeme Daughter of Athena: I think your review was one of the reviews that got me thinking about making this project longer than a one-shot. I'm grateful for the encouraging review and I hope this was a fast enough update for you! I agree that Rumpelstiltskin is sort of an underappreciated character when it comes to the Charmings, but then he has a long, complicated relationship with that family. No worries-there will be plenty more of him yet, considering he is my favorite character. **_

_**Shizuku Tsukishima749: I love writing Emma/Rumpel fluff, whether it involves a pairing of the two or just a general friendship. Even in the show, I always enjoy the scenes that Rumpel and Emma have together. Plus, if there's anyone who can relate to what Emma has gone through recently, it's him (at least in my opinion). Thank you for reading! **_

_**Infinite Nosferatu: I never really thought about Rumpel and Emma having a father-daughter moment, though it wasn't really a pairing-type moment, either. I liked hearing your insight about it. It's sort of nice for Emma to have someone to talk to about her troubles, besides her parents. Thank you for the review!**_

_**Grace5231973: I have to admit that I am a bit of a Golden Swan shipper (not a Captain Swan shipper), but I don't think I'll be setting them up romantically in this story. I think it'd be a welcome change if those two had something resembling a friendship. **_

_**Lyn Harkeran: Wow, that was such an awesome review to read! I think I was blushing from your kind words. It amazes me to hear that you consider me to be one of the best fanfiction writers, but I do try my best to keep everything in-character as much as possible. I'm so glad you liked the first chapter (previously one-shot) and I hope you'll continue reading. **_

_**For those of you who were able to catch the first episode of the third season, how did you enjoy the trip to Neverland? **_


	3. Chapter 3

Cold.

That was the first sensation Rumpelstiltskin experienced upon awaking on the beach. Not just cold, either; this was frigid, the kind of cold that bites into the skin, slushes through the arteries and ices the blood running through the veins, seeping into the bones and threatening never to leave. Everything was damp: the clothes on his back, the strands of hair sticking to his scalp, the sand beneath his legs. The tide constantly rolled in to his embrace his waist and licked the tips of his frozen fingers.

Despite all that, he was not shivering. That was either a good thing or, more likely, a very bad thing. Good if the temperature was starting to rise in Neverland and overpowering the cold; bad if he was in the late stages of hypothermia due to exposure to Neverland's unforgiving waters. Granted, hypothermia would not kill him. It would bring him within inches of death and there he would dangle like a lost soul torn between two worlds.

Instances of hypothermia, mutilation, and starvation were not enough to do him in, but it was always a thorn in his side whenever one occurred. How many people knew firsthand how it felt to _nearly _starve to death, but never reaching that eternal sleep? That was what happened in the days directly after he let Bae fall through that vortex, withering away in the shadows in the throes of despair and loneliness until he finally made himself so sick that he forced himself to eat something more than a chunk of bread and a berry or two.

Rumpel's tired eyelids cracked open, only to be instantly blinded by the overhanging sun. It was not a warm sun by any means-Neverland had very few of those. Cranking his head to the left, he spied a patch of dry brush and what appeared to be pieces of the Jolly Roger that washed up on shore. It must have been in range of his body when he cast the spell that carried him and Emma to shore.

Weakly, he lifted his hand and summoned a fireball, flinging it toward the firewood. The wood sparked immediately, the flames roaring to life. Hopefully, the flames would last until he was warmed up. Magic tended to take its toll on his energy level when he was not up to par and thus he did not want to conjure fireball after fireball before he regenerated his energy. For now, he let his head loll on the sand, his body soaking up the heat from the nearby fire.

Emma.

Where was she? She should have washed up on shore, too, having been in his arms when he cast the spell. He needed to find their savior and set her before the fire as soon as possible. The Dark One could not die from hypothermia, but the savior-at the very least, a human girl-could.

Ignoring the stiffness of his neck, he scanned up and down the beach for her body. Finally he spotted her huddled form on his right. Her back was facing his way and he was unable to see her face, but he recognized the fetal position, her legs tucked tightly to her chest. Instinctively, the fetal position was a protective stance. She was not shivering, either.

The first thing Rumpel tried was picking up a stray stick and tossing it at her, hoping to stir her. It hit her arm, but she never moved. He conjured a replica of the twig, his head spinning from the zapped energy, and whipped it as hard as he could. This time it struck her thigh before plopping in the sand, though still no response.

Rumpel's forehead sank to the powdery sand. Time for Plan B. Plan A, a.k.a. Toss Twigs at Emma, was a failure.

After another blissful moment of drinking the heat from the fire, Rumpel strained to rise to his feet. Once or twice he stumbled to his knees, his muscles strung tight as piano wire, but he managed to half-limp, half-crawl across the short distance to Emma's side. He collapsed on the ground beside her and clamped a hand on her rigid, bare shoulder. Unlike him, she did not have a layer of clothing over her arms, the wet tank top only clinging to her chest.

Carefully, he turned her onto her back, her head rolling onto her shoulder. He pressed his fingers to her neck, but did not feel any sign of a pulse. He scrambled through his vest in search of his dagger, having grabbed it from his shop before boarding the Jolly Roger. He sighed with relief as he removed it and held it under Emma's nose, but no signs of breath fell upon the silver blade. Back into his vest it went, back where no one could reach it.

He felt disappointed. He expected his savior to be stubborn as always, holding on with all her might. Gods, she was so pale-she resembled an oversized china doll instead of a human being. His arm sliced through the air and a blanket folded over his arm, which he wrapped around her exposed shoulders. It was similar to the one he offered her just last night on the deck of the Jolly Roger.

He needed to revive her.

Thankfully, his false memories of Mr. Gold lurked in the back of his mind to aid him in this task. It was a good thing that personality belonged to a skillful man and not someone clueless like David Nolan. Truth be told, Rumpel had never done this sort of thing before.

He started doing compressions on her chest, willing her heart to beat once more and for the water to be released from her lungs. Emma's face remained placid, paler than that of her mother, even. If compressions didn't work, he would have to resort to mouth-to-mouth.

He hesitated. This was something he _definitely _never did before. Any sort of intimacy between people-whether expected in social situations or not-was rare in his case. His shell was cast in iron, thicker and more difficult to break than Emma's walls. The only person who thrived beyond that shell, however remotely, was Belle.

It was only mouth-to-mouth. It didn't mean anything. It might be what was necessary to ensure Emma's survival. He had to do it.

Rumpel listened closely to the whispers in the back of his mind, encouraged by the false memories of a man that did not really exist. He positioned his hands on Emma's chin and nose, his head leaning down so that his lips pressed against her own. Then he breathed life into her. Once, no change. Twice, no change. Three-_come on, Emma, fight-_

Emma's lips parted and water bubbled up from her throat, shooting into Rumpel's face. Her body quivered beneath his, returning to the land of the living. Her green eyes roved wildly over her environment, unfocused and not really able to process the details. Finally, she paused to observe Rumpel hovering above her head.

"Welcome back, dearie," he greeted wryly, his accent raw from the cold. Emma's brows cinched together, whether in perplexity or anger, he could not tell.

Without breaking his gaze, Emma picked up a lumpy rock and smashed it against his temple. Rumpel rolled off her and fingered the sore spot on his forehead. When his fingers came away, they were covered in blood. A violet, misty fog enveloped his hand and he healed the wound, not even leaving a scar to indicate its existence.

"You definitely are Snow White's daughter," he grumbled over his shoulder. He doubted Charming or Snow would be comforted by the parallel apart from the fact that their daughter was capable of defending herself against the Dark One.

"You were kissing me, you creep," Emma fired back. She feasted her eyes on the crackling fire and stumbled her way toward it.

"I was reviving you! It's a little well-known mechanism entitled mouth-to-mouth. Not to be confused with the intimate act of kissing," he countered, joining her by the edge of the fire. Emma scooted away from him on the sand, as if he would infect her with rabies otherwise.

"Most people who perform mouth-to-mouth don't make a habit of sticking their tongue down the throat of the person they're trying to revive," she said, pulling her legs tightly to her chest. There was that protective stance again.

He already knew Emma had issues with trusting others. Hell, she even kept her biological parents at arm's length. Never once had he overheard her calling them Mom or Dad after Storybrooke was saved. But she seemed to trust him the least.

"It was my first time doing it. My tongue has to go somewhere!"

Sullen silence inevitably descended between them, with only Emma's sniffling and the crackling of the twigs in the flames to disrupt the unnerving quiet. Even with his head turned in the opposite direction, he was vaguely aware of Emma's legs unfolding, stretching before the fire. It could have been that her need for warmth triumphed over her mistrust, but Rumpel liked to think it was progress.

"Thank you for saving me," Emma grudgingly stated after a while. Rumpel merely nodded to prove he heard. It was for selfish means entirely that he had saved their savior-she would be the one to lead them to Henry, so that he may face that centuries-old prohecy in Bae's name, but more than that, she was one of his last connections to Bae. "What happened to the others?"

Despite the sheet of marble that was Emma's face, concern crept its way into her voice. It was really only in regards to her parents, he knew. She just reunited with her biological parents a short time ago; something warned him that Emma's shoulders, however strong, would not bear the burden of another personal loss. This one would transform her into the wretched little orphan she once was, just as Cinderella transformed back into the maid at the stroke of midnight.

Rumpel shook his head slightly, enough of an answer. He scanned the breaking white waves, wondering whether the others were even alive. Did Snow, Charming, Regina, and Hook wash up on some other portion of Neverland's beaches? Or were their water-logged, lifeless bodies floating among the mermaids in the deep?

"That's it?" He tilted his head quizzically in Emma's direction. She boldly regained her footing, towering above his head like the fearless leader she aspired to be. In some ways, her bravery, self-sacrifice, and sense of righteousness reminded him of Belle-and that sort of bittersweet memory tightened his chest. "We're not going to try to look for them? We're just going to assume the worst and carry on?"

Rumpel sighed tiredly.

"Do you want to waste time searching for the rest of our companions? Or do you want to find your son? In case you have not yet noticed, Neverland is quite enormous, too much ground to cover. You want my advice, free of charge? Make your choice-fast."

He surely wasn't willing to dive back into that water in a foolish rescue attempt for four other people that weren't even proven to be alive. Besides, those other four would not be so grateful for his efforts.

"I am not about to give up on them," Emma declared, chin hitched high. Hands planted firmly on her hips, muscles thriving with newfound strength, eyelids narrowed in challenge-that was Emma's savior stance. If she expected him to follow suit, one of her obedient worshippers, she would be sorely disappointed.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged and waved a dismissive hand to the waves. While she was freezing her back-end off and diving headfirst into the ocean for lost family members, he would be nice and toasty in front of the fire. If only he had s'mores to make it complete.

Before Emma took a single step, a figure emerged from around the bend that led further along the beach. Instinctively, Rumpelstiltskin summoned a ball of fire from the red pit at his feet while Emma spun in alarm and obvious expectation.

It was only Hook.

The pirate trudged through the sand, a noticeable sway in his gait. Water dampened his oily black hair and dripped along his temples. His trenchcoat was missing, even though Emma remembered he had it on during the storm. A black flask hovered in front of his eye; he was squinting into it.

"Why is the rum gone?"

He cursed under his breath and tipped the flask over, as if the flask were Mary Poppins' magic suitcase and rum would miraculously rain down. No such luck. Finally Hook ackowledged their presence and frowned.

"I remember there being more of you on my ship. Someone owes me a new one, by the way. I have my sights set on the prince for that. Or you."

Hook jerked his thumb at Rumpelstiltskin's chest, which was halfway exposed due to his change in wardrobe. The imp's nostrils flared in fury and the fireball soared for Hook's feet, making the pirate dance. Emma peered over Hook's shoulder anxiously, but there were no other moving figures accompanying him from around the bend.

"No one else is with you?"

She considered running ahead to check herself, in case the others might have sent Hook into the wild as bait, but she dreaded to think of the argument that would arise if Rumpel and Hook were resigned to sitting idly by the fire together. Besides, if no one else was out there, she really didn't want to be separated from her only two companions.

In any case, Hook's blank expression confirmed the answer.

"No. If there were, I'd have had to share my rum," the pirate said. Rumpel snorted derisively in light of Hook's greediness and turned his back to warm his palms by the fire. Hook sighted the flames and his face lit up with the brilliance of a Christmas tree. "Oh, good! A fire!"

Hook only managed one step before Rumpelstiltskin spread his arms wide, blocking the fire.

"Ah, ah, ah! This is _my _fire! Feel free to rub two sticks together and make your own!" Hook pouted, his silver hook shining under the sun. Emma's head sank into her hand. _How did I know this would happen? _

"Why does she get the luxury of your fire?" Hook thrust his hook toward Emma. She glared spitefully at the pirate. Chivalry was most certainly dead.

"I like Emma," Rumpel retorted. The unspoken message rang through crystal clear: he did not like Hook, ergo, he did not intend to share a fire with him. Emma sent an accusatory glance Rumpel's way. They were supposed to be fighting Peter Pan, not each other. Fighting each other was exactly why they were stranded on this beach, missing several heads.

"Rumpelstiltskin," she chided. His eyelids narrowed to dangerous slits and his jaw locked. Apparently, he didn't like her _that much. _"It won't kill you to share the fire with Hook. He's our ally, remember?"

Hook grinned gratefully at Emma. The flirting would never stop now that she had defended his side of the argument. Rumpel's lip curled in revulsion, but at least his arms were lowering back to his sides.

"You don't know that," he muttered. Emma wasn't sure whether Rumpel meant that sharing the fire with Hook would kill him or whether Hook wasn't truly their ally, but Rumpel did not care to elaborate. Perhaps it was both.

Emma pulled Rumpel aside while Hook was busy wiggling his rear end in front of the flames. Sweet Jesus, she hoped it wasn't a show for her sake.

"What about the others?"

Their ship had carried six lives into Neverland. Emma intended to see to it that no less than seven returned to Storybrooke. Five or six, if Rumpel or Hook succeeded in killing each other. Rumpel's expression grew grave, the wheels cranking inside his head.

"If the others are alive, perhaps we will cross paths again. Our main goal at the moment should be finding Henry. It's vital that we dry ourselves off and fill our bellies. No doubt Pan will be surveilling our every move. Thus, we must not show weakness."

Emma had to admit that she admired Rumpel's way with words. He always seemed to know the right thing to say at any given moment and no matter how well he hid in the background or how often he labeled himself a coward, he came off sounding like a leader more than Emma thought she ever did.

"Agreed," she said solemnly and dipped her head to prove her respect. His fingers gently tapped her chin, instructing her to raise it instead. The next time Rumpel locked eyes with her, that old, mscheivous grin crawled across his lips. Uh-oh.

"Tell me, Emma...Has your dear mother ever taught you how to hunt?"

...

Emma.

It was the first thing Charming thought of when consciousness returned to him. He was floating on a strudy piece of wood from the Jolly Roger, clinging to it for dear life. The rest of the ship had gone under, their mode of transportation lost. Water tunneled into his mouth and he cringed, his stomach doing somersaults. Despair weighed heavily on his shoulders, the strength in his arms barely enough to hold onto the piece of wood the more time went by. Despair for the death of the Jolly Roger, despair for having lost his wife and daughter-again.

Flashes of memory invaded his mind, the fogginess of terror and slumber subsiding. Salt and rain, the clash of steel, the rumble of thunder mixed with the tsunami of water, the ship careening like a pitiful broken leaf conquered by a geyser. One minute it was there, the next it was gone. Nothing but ice and salt, weaving a cocoon around his limp body.

Recollections of Snow scrabbling her nails over Regina's hand as the bane of her existence mercilessly wrapped those steel hands around her throat, hands that had spilt so much blood in the past. The tidal wave towering over the ship, coming down and engulfing the ship entirely. Emma lost behind a curtain of water; it cleared and the spot where she had been standing was vacant.

If it hadn't been for the wave sweeping him off his feet, he would have sprinted across that deck, vaulted over the railing, and dove in after her without hesitating.

After the next wave had crashed into their ship and cleared, Rumpelstiltskin had disappeared as well. Whether the imp had jumped in after Emma or fallen overboard, Charming had no clue. Everything had fallen apart quickly after that. The ship took heavy damage and began to sink, he lost sight of his wife, and he could only hope Rumpelstiltskin would not be selfish enough to let Emma drown.

Something jerked on Charming's ankle, pulling him swiftly out of his mournful reverie. He grappled with the piece of driftwood, refusing to be tugged under by whatever dangerous creature lurked beneath the surface. He scanned the surface of the water, searching for some sign of disruption through the rolling of the waves to alert him to his enemy's whereabouts. Unfortunately, he didn't even have his sword to defend himself with-he had dropped it on the deck when attempting to pursue Emma.

The waves grew gentler in motion, the storm having passed long ago. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Charming held his breath, waiting. Something tickled his leg and he plunged his hand into the water, fishing around for a clump of hair or a limb belonging to the meddlesome creature. It sent goosebumps up his arm to feel something scaly, slimy, and writhing beneath his fingertips. The creature was no guppy fish-this was a massive one, stretching half his height under his hand. The only visual that came to mind was the tail of a mermaid.

His fingers curled into his palm and in the process snagged the fin, slick and tissue-thin in texture.

Bad idea.

Without warning, the mermaid did a nose-dive and sent Charming reeling along with it. Down into the depths he was pulled, the water becoming icier the deeper he descended. He released the mermaid's fin and pushed for the surface, his lungs craving oxygen. The mermaid's hand ensnared his leg again, wrenching him back down into the sapphire shadows. It was like trying to shimmy his way out of a metal bracelet; the mermaid would not be bested.

There was a flash of brilliant, electric blue as the mermaid swam upwards, swam around his legs and torso. Dagger-sharp nails skated over his skin, exploring lustfully while he squirmed and tried to keep the reflection of the sun in sight above his head. An ethereal face darted through the shadows-moonlight-white skin, silky auburn hair floating in the water, intelligent violet eyes, and curves meant to lure a sailor to their untimely death. Before Charming knew it, a raw pair of lips had latched onto his own, sucking the breath from his lungs-

A shadow passed over the mermaid's shoulder, or perhaps the black spots of dizziness in Charming's vision were worsening, indicating his draining energy and life source. But then there was an arrow protruding from the mermaid's hip, just above the spot where her tail melded into the humanesque ivory skin. Scarlet blood diffused through the water. The mermaid opened her mouth, revealing a jagged row of fangs, and unleashed a warped scream.

Charming stared uncomprehendingly as the mermaid's injured form was flung backwards, tumbling through the water. His brain was growing sluggish, thoughts becoming harder to form, his brain cells dying off one by one with the lack of air. A hand, not as strong as the mermaid's but still possessing magnificent strength of its own, clasped his wrist and shoved him to the surface. His head broke through the water and his chest burned with the need for air.

Oh, sweet air.

The black spots faded. Vivid colors spun in front of his aching eyes as he sought out his rescuer. His heart pounded even harder when he noticed a pair of fiery emerald eyes, framed by a cloud of coal black hair.

"Snow," he gasped amidst his gulps of air. It numbed his mind briefly to apply his wife's virtue to the startling underwater assault a moment ago. That tiny black spot on her heart, earned by the act of taking Cora's life to protect their family, came to mind. Before he could question her state of mind, she pointed fervently to the board bobbing on the waves.

"Kick," she commanded. "Head for shore." Together they steadied their chests atop the board and pumped their legs, making their way to Neverland's beach.

"Snow, about that mermaid-" He tilted his head back to avoid having water gush into his mouth. Snow oddly refused to meet his probing gaze, keeping her focus trained straight ahead as they tackled the waves, a sure sign of her impending guiltiness.

"Not now, Charming," she impatiently rebuked. She pushed the board along even harder, her nails scraping its rough surface. Underwater, he could feel how much of an effort her legs were making due to the pulsing of the water.

He dropped the subject for now, but offered his wife a sideways glance radiating caution, hoping-praying, actually-that the black spot on her heart had less influence in her behavior than he feared.

At long last, they washed up on shore, the waves pummeling their bodies into the sloppy, cakey sand. Wiping the stinging salt water from his eyes, the first thing Charming did was scour the beach for either Emma or Rumpelstiltskin. Pieces of the Jolly Roger were carried by the waves, but there was no sign of his daughter or the infamous dealmaker. Snow's hand rubbed Charming's anxious shoulder.

"We'll find her, Charming. We always find each other, don't we? I have to believe the same goes for our daughter," she reassured. Relief weakened his resolve. That was the Snow White he knew and loved dearly. The confident one, the optimistic one, the one willing to protect her loved ones with all her might, but on the side of good instead of evil. He turned and kissed her, telling her that he understood and appreciated her valor.

"We'll find her," he repeated breathily once their lips parted ways. _We have to, _he added in his head where Snow would never hear. He was not about to stand by and let his daughter go for the third time. What kind of father was he if he did not fight?

A rustle of trees lining the beach caught their attention. The forest beyond was dark and uninviting despite the sunlight raining down over their heads. But, truly, was there any part of Neverland that would be inviting? The trees rustled more violently and a shadow loomed into view.

"Emma?" Charming dared to hope. Snow, however, nocked an arrow and aimed with vast speed that bordered on inhuman. The shadow took solid form, stepping beyond the line of trees into the sunlight, and Charming's stomach plummeted.

"Thirty seconds on this miserable island and you're already prepared to kill me to save your own skin? How typical of the so-called heroes," Regina sneered, eyeing Snow's bow with disgust. Charming touched Snow's raised elbow and she gradually lowered the weapon.

"Charming thought you might have been our daughter," Snow replied briskly. It was clear that Snow did not share the same idea, instead assuming that Regina had been a deadly foe. Regina arched an inquisitive eyebrow, her ruby lips pursed tightly.

"Oh, yes. The resemblance is remarkable," Regina sarcastically muttered, threading her fingers through hair that was so obviously not woven with golden highlights. Snow shook her head angrily, her cheeks coloring a light red.

"What were you doing in the woods?" Charming fired the question at the Evil Queen. Now Regina was the one doing the angry blushing, not expecting the demanding question. A shaky hand pressed to her chest.

"What I do solitarily in the woods is none of your concern, Charming. Unless, of course, you wish to upgrade from the fugitive princess and tag along-"

If Regina intended on provoking Snow further, it worked like a charm. Snow tossed down her bow and charged at Regina with bare fists, but Charming swooped in and lifted her off her feet with an arm around her waist. Even so, Snow was hell-bent on clawing Charming's arm to shreds.

"Ow, ow, Snow! Stop fighting me for one instant, will you? She's trying to provoke you deliberately! This is Regina we're talking about!" But Snow seemed to be deaf to his reasoning. She bared her teeth at her rival, pure lividness reflected in her once compassionate eyes.

"This is all your fault! The fighting, the storm, the shipwreck, Emma's disappearance-it's all your fault! And I am _so sick _of you ruining my life and trying to take away everyone I love!" Regina recoiled from the accusation. Her fingers hooked into talons at her sides.

"My fault? Your daughter was the one who threw a fireball at me! Some princess she turned out to be," Regina spat.

"Some queen you turned out to be," Snow shot back on the heels of it. Now Regina appeared ready to rip Snow's head off her body. "Either way, my daughter is out there somewhere and we need to find her."

Snow finally broke free of Charming's bear-like embrace, though she did not attack Regina like he expected she would. Instead, she collected her bow and never bothered to acknowledge Regina's grumbling, much in the way a peasant is ignored by a royal.

"Since we're here together, we might as well be allies instead of enemies. Fighting will get us nowehere except an early death," Charming declared, the unofficial peacemaker of the group. Regina barely glanced his way. Apparently, she deemed him the lesser of the two threats.

"Tell that to the fairest of them all," she scoffed, earning another searing glare from Snow. "I need to find my son. Unfortunately for you, I don't care for Miss Swan or Rumpelstiltskin or Hook enough to venture out of my way for a heartfelt reunion."

Charming whistled under his breath, his hands firmly positioned on his hips. His shoe kicked up a flume of sand. _Here we go, _he thought bitterly. Somehow, he knew this would be the tipping point for Snow.

"First of all, and I don't know how many times we need to repeat this before it makes it way through your thick head, but Henry is not _your _son. He is _Emma's _son. You're lucky you still have the privilege of seeing him after all the evil you've committed," Snow said, the bow shaking in her grasp.

Regina opened her mouth to protest, but Charming jumped between the two women and held up his hands, urging them to surrender their feud.

"Regina, believe me when I say we want the same thing. Our priorities are just complicated to sort out," Charming stated, his voice rising several notches. He meant every word-his heart was torn in two different directions at the moment, torn between saving his grandson and finding his daughter. Regina's red haze of rage dimmed, a good sign if ever there was one concerning the Evil Queen.

"What are you proposing?" He heard the granite in her voice, warning that the fact that she was asking would not guarantee that she would agree. He was also aware of Snow's eyes burning into his back while she ruminated over the same question as Regina.

"An alliance," he said shortly. He carried on swiftly before either of the women could be given the chance to express their distaste for the idea. "The ones who kidnapped Henry are our enemies; we shouldn't be fighting each other."

Turning solely to Regina, he extended his hand.

"As I said, the only thing I intend to do is rescue my son," she snapped, her eyes slicing into Snow over Charming's shoulder. Charming stayed firm, his stance never wavering despite the doubts he was having about Regina agreeing to an alliance.

"I can't abandon my daughter again," he said morosely. "Why don't we start off and see where the road leads us?"

Regina seemed skeptical, the scar above her lip becoming more prominent with the sudden pinch to her lips. Charming's arm was getting stiff from hanging in the air. He wished Regina would hurry up and decide whether she was their ally or not.

"You mean...frolick through the forest unawares? Charming plan you have there." Charming hung his head, cursing Regina's name silently. A headache began to throb at the base of his skull.

"Why must everything be so complicated with you?" Snow berated. Much to his dismay, her clipped tone reminded Charming of Snow's darker self after drinking Rumpelstiltskin's potion to forget her true love in the Enchanted Forest.

"As opposed to your happy-go-lucky, roses and sunshine attitude? It must be difficult skipping along a path of lilies and singing with the birds," Regina retorted. Snow pushed against the barrier of Charming's shoulder.

"Regina, if you honestly think that is what my life has been, roses and sunshine, then you clearly know me less than I always assumed," she hissed.

"Enough!" Charming's voice boomed across the length of the beach, silencing both women abruptly. Even the waves appeared to roll slower, as though afraid to approach the shore where the argument was taking place. "My word is the only one you'll be listening to now. The two of you are to stay away from each other until you can learn to tolerate one another. If you insist on acting like children, then I shall treat you like children. Do not make me resort to punishment."

A mischievous smirk dominated Regina's crude lips.

"Ooh, Charming. Something tells me the tacos will be extra spicy tonight," she purred. Snow blushed fiercely and Charming felt the heat crawl up his neck. He resisted Regina's dangling hook and leveled a serious stare her way.

Never once in the Enchanted Forest did he think he would propose an alliance with the Evil Queen.

"Regina, I am not talking about frolicking through the forest. I'm talking about doing whatever it takes to save those we love. I'm talking about taking a leap of faith."

Once more, he held out his hand in offering to Regina. This time, Regina accepted it.

"Consider us allies...for now." With that truce in mind, Regina stalked past them and plopped herself down on a spot of the sand far enough away from them to give them the hint. She wanted to be left alone for a while and Charming wasn't about to argue. Snow gave him a warning look and strapped her bow to her back.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she said, tilting her head toward the Evil Queen.

"Yeah," he simply offered his wife. What he really meant was: _so do I. _

...

_**Well, I hope everyone enjoyed the third chapter and I also hope you enjoyed the most recent episode of Once as well. I actually liked the take they had on Tinkerbell's character. Still don't like the Blue Fairy, though. **_

_**Anyone watching the spin-off? **_

_**Shout-outs: I give thanks to Grace5231973, ValueMyHeart, DragonRose4, sundancemc, Shizuku Tsukishima749, Ismeme Daughter of Athena, and SwanQueen4055 for their reviews last time. Every word is appreciated. (-; **_


	4. Chapter 4

"You want me to what?"

Emma lounged over the damp sand, her hands planted behind her back, fingers groveling through the white powder, and legs spread in a wide V. Rumpelstiltskin's imposing shadow loomed over her, the angle of the sun behind his head making it stretch to impossible lengths. She shielded her eyes and stared up at him in stark confusion, just in time for him to toss a crooked twig onto the sand between her legs.

"As I requested only a moment prior: I want you to take this little stick-an ordinary, dull stick, mind you-and imagine it to be a bow," he repeated. It was clear his patience was running thin; he never liked to be asked twice about his requests. Emma studied the stick and then inclined her head again.

"Why can't you just wave your hand and summon a bow and some arrows magically?" The man could probably construct a beach house with an indoor pool and their personal DJ if he willed it. Rumpel crouched in front of her and picked up the stick, twirling it between his palms.

"Emma, if you wish to save Henry, there's one detail you must understand: Neverland thrives on imagination. It's about time you exhibited some of that magic." He extended the stick to her in offering.

Experimentally, Emma accepted the stick, picking it up with two fingers and treating it in the manner of something infectious. She twirled it and made mock swinging gestures. She plucked an invisible string. Rumpel tented his fingers under his chin, anticipating the phenomenon of the lowly twig transforming into the marvelous bow via Emma's imagination.

Except for the part where the stick plopped down in the sand.

"It's a stick," Emma commented. Rumpel flung his hands down on his knees and unleashed a mighty cry of frustration. Hook bellowed with laughter, though he never took his eyes from the curve of the hook he was meticulously polishing.

"You have to give the girl credit for forever stating the obvious," he said, his lips crudely split in a toothy grin. "You know what they say: if it looks like a stick, feels like a stick, tastes like a stick, odds are it's a stick."

The pirate lost control of his laughter, lending fuel to his mockery. Emma grumbled and dove for the stick, hurling it at Hook. It whacked him on the side of the head, making him cry out in surprise and pain. His boot plowed the stick through the sand.

"Careful, love. These are delicate goods, meant to be handled with care," he boasted, patting his chest. Rumpel begged to differ, made obvious by his belittling sizing-up of the pirate. He retrieved the stick, once more tossing it down at Emma's feet.

"Would it kill you to try to trust me?" Emma crossed her legs and scooted away from the stick. She was aware of the pressure of Rumpel's gaze upon her face, and she matched it with double the intensity.

"In case you haven't noticed yet, I'm not the most trusting person around," she said brusquely. Trust had always been a sensitive issue for her, having been alone since birth and betrayed by Neal after giving him her heart all those years ago. Rumpel's resolve softened slightly. She stiffened when he placed his hand upon her knee.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he cooed, lightly patting her knee. She twitched her leg, throwing off his hand. "Hence the key word _try._"

Emma watched him retreat to his previous standing position. Her stomach roared, demanding food. The gratification of food would only come from a bow that did not yet exist.

Resistance waning, Emma picked up the stick once more and held it firmly in her grasp. She closed her eyes and repeated the word _bow _in her head, willing the stick to change shape. It wasn't a rough, scratchy, brown piece of firewood; now it was a _bow, bow, bow. _Miraculously, there was movement in her palm. The stick was becoming...looser. Almost wiggling like a cooked piece of spaghetti. And it wasn't prickly with bark anymore. It was silky.

What the hell had she done?

"Hmm...Emma?" Rumpelstiltskin's skeptical voice commanded that she opened her eyes. Well, there wasn't a stick in her hand, but it wasn't her desired result, either. Rumpel pinched the edge of the red bow between his fingers, letting it dangle in the air for all to see. Technically, it was a _bow, bow, bow, _just the wrong sort. This was a _hair _bow. "I very much doubt you'll be catching anything with this, lest you intend to attract a rampaging bull."

"It's not my fault you make this magic thing look so easy," she hurled back, grabbing the bow from his fingers.

"Thank you for the compliment," Rumpel said, flashing a bright smile her way. Hook scrunched his nose in disgust.

"Don't feed his ego, Emma," the pirate warned. "Soon his head will be too big for him to tote around." Rumpel gasped and smoothed down his frizzing hair. It had been a couple of days since he last tended to it properly. If looks could kill, Hook would have several daggers protruding from his body already.

"Look who's talking. Hate to break the news to you, _dearie_, but you're no Johnny Depp. I swear, every time you stumble through a tavern, your first words even before the drink are _who wants me?_"

Hook bristled. Red hot sparks zinged from those two pairs of eyes, their wits locked in a fearsome battle. Emma decided to give Rumpel a point for the Johnny Depp remark.

"First of all, I do not _stumble; _I _strut. _Major difference. Secondly, who in the name of the seven seas is Johnny Depp? A friend of yours?"

Emma snorted, earning a glower from Hook. While the two rivals bickered like children, she returned to concentrating on transforming the hair bow to a real bow. She emptied her mind of all other thoughts, as Rumpelstiltskin taught her to do, and glued an image of a bow to the front of her mind. _A bow will help us find food. A bow will help us find Henry. Bow, bow, bow..._

The item in her hand was changing again, but she did not dare lose track of that image in her head. It was crucial that she relied on the magic flowing through her veins and kept her focus intact. The silk faded, hardening, becoming wood again. Only it wasn't reverting to the form of a stick. This wood was sleek, rigid, polished. It extended in her hand, growing bigger and heavier with every passing second. There was a dull thrum, almost like a single note of a harp.

Emma opened her eyes and was instantly satisfied with what she saw.

A glorious hunting bow was nestled in her grip, a quiver of arrows resting in the sand by her feet and waiting to be nocked. A warm feeling rippled through her heart as she realized it had worked splendidly.

"So what you're saying is that this Johnny guy runs around pretending to be a pirate, drinking his weight in rum, stealing ships, kissing girls and all?" Hook frowned. "I've done all that and I'm not famous yet! What's this Johnny guy have that I don't?"

Emma stood up with the bow in hand. She wondered how long it would take for the men to notice her accomplishment. The way they argued, their emotions were entirely comsumed and it seemed they were the only two people in the world.

Finally, Emma got so impatient that she tapped Rumpel on the shoulder.

"Yes, yes, Emma, your bow is very pretty, but I have my hands full at the moment," he stated without even glancing over his shoulder. Clearly, he still assumed she was dealing with the hair bow. "That's more than you can say, I'm afraid," he said directly to Hook. The pirate guarded his precious hook, holding it close to his chest.

"I've gotten quite fond of my hook and so have many women. In any case, I can still do _this._" The hook soared through the air and clouted Rumpel on the ear.

Rumpel cried out in pain and, clutching his throbbing ear, lunged for Hook. However, he was interrupted halfway when an arrow zipped past his nose and sailed into the rushing waves. Rumpel whipped his head around just as Emma lowered the bow to her side.

"You missed," Hook said. Emma's eyelids narrowed a fraction of an inch.

"I wasn't aiming for him," she snapped. There was no sign of mockery radiating from Rumpelstiltskin, only an additional layer of respect for the savior.

"It appears you inherited your mother's natural affinity for the bow." He nodded to the weapon approvingly. Emma still found it hard to believe the bow had once been a measly stick, but she held it proudly.

"Who's hungry?"

...

The tip of the arrow gleamed in the sunlight. Emma huddled low and scanned the fringes of trees for any sign of movement. She readjusted her grip on the bow, trying to become familiar with the way it felt in her hands since she never handled one before. Rumpelstiltskin knelt by her side, his words of wisdom slithering in her ear.

"Remember what I said, dearie: the boar is your prey, you are the predator. Keep quiet on your feet and tread carefully. Corner your prey, if you can. Above all, handle that bow as you would one of your very own limbs. Control it. A hunter is only as good as his skill in wielding his choice of weapon."

Through a clump of bushes to her left, she heard the shuffle of feet. A few of the leaves trembled. _There you are, _she thought, gradually rising to full height. They had been tracking this boar for the better part of an hour, with Emma loosing a few arrows the first time it eluded them. She used the trunk of a tree for cover when the snout of the boar poked out from behind the bush, followed by the rest of its bristly black body.

Emma licked her lips carefully. A bead of sweat rolled over her brow as she positioned the bow the way Rumpel had instructed. Even now, his hands fell to her shoulders to correct her stance.

"Stand up straight, Emma. You are a proud hunter, not a teenger on the brink of failing gym class," he scolded softly. Irritation alone made her muscles rigid. She kept her eyes trained on the boar that was sniffing the muddy ground. "That's it. Now, pull the arrow back-not too fast! Keep your eyes on the target. Envision that arrow flying through the air and burying itself deep in that boar's belly."

His hand stretched in front of her, encouraging the way she held the bow. She felt his touch on her elbow, guiding it higher than she already held it. His breath tickled her ear, heavy and hot, and she fought not to let his proximity distract her.

"Take a deep breath in..." Emma silently sucked in a breath of air through her nose, her belly flattening. Her fingers ached to release the arrow, but she waited for Rumpel's command. Other times she had sent the arrow flying too soon or too fast and it never hit its mark.

Any second now...

She could practically taste that boar. It better be tastier than chimera.

All of a sudden, the bushes behind them rustled. Whatever was coming through them was large and clumsy. Rumpel frantically ordered in her ear not to let the noise distract her, a fireball already glowing in his hand, but it was too late. Emma made a snap decision and spun around, knocking Rumpel aside and aiming for the bushes, waiting for the creature to show itself. For all she knew, it could be a bear or even Peter Pan-

Or a tipsy pirate with a hook in place of his left hand.

"It's about time I caught up with you two. I am starving," he complained loudly. Emma groaned and Rumpel shushed the both of them, the fireball sizzling out. She whirled back to the boar, but it had noticed their presence. Its back end scampered off into the bushes.

"No!" Emma cursed and quickly let loose an arrow. The head of the arrow sank into the mud where the boar had been sniffling around.

"And there he goes again," Rumpel muttered. A flask materialized into his hand and he tipped it to his mouth. Hook made a low _ooh _of delight and reached for the flask, only to watch it vanish into thin air. Anger pumped like lava through Emma's veins and, with the bow still in hand, she rounded on Hook. He was lucky if she didn't nock another arrow.

"We told you to stay on the beach," she yelled. She rubbed the sweat off her brow. It was too muggy in Neverland's forests-at this point, she wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a plate of Granny's overpriced food. Hook eyed the quiver of arrows warily.

"I got bored," he said, shrugging. "There are only so many times you can blow into a seashell before you come to realize the mermaids aren't answering." Emma rolled her eyes and stomped off in pursuit of the boar...again. At this rate, it would be nightfall before they found food and according to Hook, they did not want to be wandering in these woods at nightfall. "If it's any consolation, you look incredibly sexy wielding that bow!"

Hook's smile died rapidly after Emma vanished from view. He was having no luck with the female population lately. Even Rumpelstiltskin had a girl back home.

The imp in question crossed the short distance to the pirate and roughly shoved him up against a tree. Hook was about to make a smart remark about how he wasn't into this sort of thing before his own hook grazed the skin of his throat.

"I'm going to give you a piece of advice, free of charge. Stay away from Emma," Rumpel hissed. For a man that was at least two inches shorter than Hook's stature, he was amazingly strong. The point of the hook dug a little deeper, the pressure enough to draw a bead of blood.

"Advice? Funny. The fact that you have my own hook pressed to my neck makes me think this is a threat," Hook retorted. He craned his head back to avoid the hook, only to be blocked by the trunk of the tree. "And what concern is it of yours if I bond with Emma?"

Rumpel's teeth flashed. Not a good sign.

"I know the kind of man you are and I know how you think. Just because Emma is emotionally shaken and grieving over Bae does not give you any right to move in on her. _Stay away from her._"

The words _or else_ were unspoken, but Hook heard them all the same. The hook shed another bead of blood for emphasis and then Rumpel's grip loosened, allowing Hook to slump to his knees on the ground. He wiped the blood from his neck, wincing when it stung.

"What are you, her father? In case you've forgotten, he's out there somewhere." Hook blindly gestured to the forest behind them, the general direction of the beach and the ocean that may or may not have swallowed the rest of their crew.

Rumpel sneered over the sight of Hook sprawled on the ground and then turned his back, venturing after Emma and their dinner. Hook's nails scrabbled over the mud and twigs, his legs wobbling like that funky food called Jell-O when he stood. The imp thought he could command him to keep his distance from Emma, did he? Well, then, he was all the more inclined to savor the forbidden fruit that was Emma Swan.

Hook always loved a challenge.

...

There was a shallow stream of water not too much deeper into the forest. That was where Emma found the boar again, its head bent to lap up the fresh water. Even though she was still seething, she had the sense to keep quiet upon moving closer. She lingered behind at a safe distance and prepared a new arrow.

This time, she would not miss.

_Nock the bow...stand tall...keep quiet...pull back slowly...train on the target...breathe in...you are the predator..._

_I want that boar, I want that boar, I want that boar..._

Swiftly, Emma released the arrow. It sailed through the air and embedded itself deep in the boar's side. The boar tossed back its head and let out a shrill cry of agony. It went on a wild rampage, wheeling around and charging straight at Emma. It took her by surprise and she hastily reached for another arrow in defense, all the while knowing in her heart that the boar would be on her in seconds.

Just as the boar thrust its tusks forward in attack, a sapphire aura pulsed around its body, freezing it in place. It could only be magic that had done the trick.

"Perhaps we should get you angrier more often. That seems to be the key to your survival," Rumpel spoke close to her ear. She spun around and discovered that he was alone. He stood erect against a tree, hands softly clapping in what she deemed to be mock congratulations. "Impressive, if I do say so myself."

Emma peered around the thick trunks of the trees, but the forest beyond was oddly dim and quiet.

"Where's Hook?" Hopefully Rumpel didn't hang him from a tree by his ankle for interrupting her hunting lesson or else they would be forced to listen to his woes all night.

"I left him in one piece, I assure you. No missing body parts. With any luck, he's returning to the beach to consult the mermaids."

Moving past her, Rumpel raised his hand and sliced it horizontally through the air. The pulsing blue aura faded from the boar. It gave one last pitiful squeal and collapsed in a heap on the ground. Emma nudged its foot with her boot, but she suspected it was dead.

"Why didn't you do that before?" She received no verbal answer. The truth was plain enough: Rumpel had wanted her to acquire this new skill for more than hunting. Such skills of defense were vital if they wished to stand any chance against Peter Pan. He was training her.

Rumpel knelt to pry the arrow from the body. Emma felt bile rise in her throat and she turned her head away to avoid witnessing the gory tip of the arrow, though she still heard the slick sound of the arrow emerging from the boar's side. She traced a finger along the smooth length of her bow, lost in more troubling thoughts.

"Thank you," she said. She knew he heard, despite how thin her voice sounded to her own ears. Rumpelstiltskin paused after securing a materialized net around the boar. They were to carry it back to the beach if they yearned for food.

"Where is this sudden gratitude coming from? Teaching you how to hunt? You're a natural, same as your mother. In time it would have come to you," he said quietly, concentrating on tying the net closed. Emma shook her head.

"For that...but what I really meant was thank you for what you said to Hook." She sensed the smirk crossing Rumpel's face. A soft exhale came from his nose.

"Ah, so you heard that, hm? I simply wanted to be sure you were not handled improperly." When the boar's remains were packed, Rumpel stood and hoisted the net over his shoulder, ready to drag their winnings back to the beach.

"I've met guys like Hook before. I actually dated a few of them after Neal and I'm pretty sure I can deal with it myself. Guys like Hook are the arrogant, good-looking Las Vegas type-good for a fling, but not for serious commitment." It didn't matter because Hook was not the one on her mind. Her chest tightened, a wave of grief threatening to make her stumble. She was aware of Rumpel observing her closely. "Anyway, I don't think I can ever hand Hook my heart when it's broken already."

Sympathy washed over Rumpel's normally subtle features. He claimed to be familiar with tragedy and the pain of a broken heart, so she had no doubt he knew the feeling. It was surprisingly nice to have someone closeby who could relate to her tangled emotions. He gave her a wistful look.

"It's a rather sad detail to your story. You fell in love with him again." She understood that the person he was talking about was Neal.

"You're wrong," she said, taking him by surprise. "I never stopped."

...

Night was falling fast, the sun melting in the ocean and setting its waters aflame with shades of pink, purple, and blood red. Emma sensed they were all nervous about what might come after the sun was gone. Would Peter Pan seek them out in an attempt to wipe them out early on? Would his shadow swoop down over their heads while they slept? There was no way to tell; they were literally running around in the dark.

Emma tried to take comfort in the light the fire offered along with the cooked meat she was stashing in her empty belly. At least Rumpel proved to be an efficient cook, even though she missed luxuries like salt, pepper, and spices. According to him, food produced by magic usually didn't taste right. Emma had a feeling she would wolf down a buffet of magic-food right then, no matter if it tasted like cardboard. Microwavable food in their world tasted like cardboard all the time.

When the shadows came to life on the beach, only Hook was capable of falling asleep in a ball on the sand. Emma kept her distance both from him and the black forest lining the beach, its depths thriving with darkness.

"I am not sleeping next to him," Emma protested, pointing at Hook. The pirate's head lolled and he snored loud enough to wake the dead. If he didn't quit that obnoxious noise, Emma would end up chucking another stick at his head. Rumpel barely glanced up from where he sat cross-legged in front of the fire, nibbling on a piece of boar meat.

"Neither am I," he replied wryly. He offered her another portion of meat, but she shook her head. She had enough of boar meat for one night. Tomorrow she would be going fishing.

Her mind began to wander. As it had for the past day or so, the result of her straying thoughts was a mental image of Neal's face. Her only solace came from the fact that she was able to tell him she loved him before he dropped into that swirling emerald vortex. There was a possibility that he was doomed to die alone, wherever he landed.

History had a funny way of repeating itself. Of course, in Emma's opinion, history had a sick sense of humor.

"What was...Bae like when he was a kid?" She didn't know where the question came from. Maybe it had been bouncing around her mind for a while and it was just now reaching the surface. It only made her think of Henry. Was he anything like his father had been?

Rumpel had stopped eating. He flung a bone onto the sand and wiped his mouth gingerly with his alligator-skin sleeve. Emma was anticipating his lack of an answer, until he sighed deeply. His brown eyes glazed with a fond memory.

"Bae..." There was such raw longing and pain in his voice that Emma's heart twisted in response. "Bae was my only light at that point of my life. My best memories were when he was always daydreaming, always hopeful...much like little Henry. He was a fantastic storyteller and optimistic to the point of believing he could help me break my curse. And that was when I lost him."

Emma dipped her head in remorse.

"Yeah, Henry definitely has a bit of his father in him. The two of them have a habit of popping up in my backseat when I'm driving my Bug," she added. Rumpel smiled at that.

"Was he...good to you? The time you were with him?" It was awkward for Rumpel to ask such a personal question. He fixated on the fire and she swore there was a slight blush rising to his cheeks.

Emma summoned up her earliest memories of Neal, of the two of them running together, of wishing for Tallahassee, of the night they shared incredible intimacy, ultimately conceiving Henry.

"He was my first love," she admitted. Moreover, Neal was the first and last man to which she dared speak the words _I love you. _"Up until his betrayal, he treated me with respect and kindness. He took care of me as much as he could while we were running on the streets."

Regret contorted Rumpel's face further. He clasped his hands together and seemed to shrink. For a man of unmatched power and wit, she had never seen him appear so small.

"He was stuck here as a fourteen-year-old boy. Fourteen years old for nearly three hundred years. Then he was stuck on the streets. All because of me," he moaned, submerged in his self-loathing. Emma frowned. She was not the comforting type, but she placed her hand on his shoulder nonetheless.

"People make mistakes. What matters is whether you put in the effort to fix them. You made the mistake of letting him drop into that vortex when he was fourteen. I made the mistake of letting him go a second time."

Except there was a chance that mistake would never be fixed. Granted, Tamara was the one who opened up the portal via a magic bean, but Emma had been the only thing keeping Neal in their world. Studying her hand now, she could almost recall the sudden emptiness of her palm when Neal's hand slipped away.

"That's enough of that," Rumpel announced abruptly, his voice strained. "There's no use dwelling on sore thoughts before sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, when we set out to find Henry."

Emma nodded once and reclined back on the sand, tucking her knees close to her chest. With a flick of Rumpel's hand, woolen blankets draped her body.

"Make sure you sleep near the fire," Rumpel advised. She shivered, silently interpreting his meaning. There weren't even any stars in Neverland's sky, nothing to illuminate the shadows. "You need your rest if you plan to find Henry, Emma. I'll stay awake and keep watch for a while."

She thought sleep would fail to take her, but she was more tired than she thought. Her eyes drifted closed with the images of Neal and Henry still swimming behind her eyelids. Tomorrow would be a long day. That was if they even survived the night.

...

"I'm not sleeping next to either of you," Regina declared as she magically conjured a sleeping bag and silky black pillow.

"Duly noted," Snow murmured. She and Charming stayed a few good feet away from the Evil Queen and prepared their own spot to sleep. It wasn't anywhere near as fancy as Regina's since they planned on cuddling to stay warm, but neither one complained. They weren't thrilled about sleeping so close to the bane of their existence, either.

"I swear, if you two even begin to make up for lost time due to the curse or so much as sleepwalk over me, don't expect me to be responsible for my actions," Regina rambled on. In other words, Snow and Charming would melt faster than the Wicked Witch of the West if they even poked Regina in her sleep.

"Once again, duly noted," Charming said nonchalantly. Regina made a small _hmm_ and settled down atop her sleeping bag. She ferociously beat her pillow until she was comfortable. Then she proceeded to give them her back. It was her form of dismissal.

Snow didn't know how any of them could contemplate sleeping tonight when Emma and Henry were out there somewhere, but her instincts screamed that it was a bad idea to continue treading through Neverland's forests at night. Ever since arriving on the beach, they had tackled the forests as best they could in search of Henry, Emma, or any others. They only stopped here and there to accept water from a trickling stream or to eat berries that were strictly Regina-tested first.

When night began falling, they agreed to stop in a small clearing to rest until morning. With the aloofness of their group so far, taking a break wasn't a bad idea.

Snow allowed Charming to cradle her in his arms, but her brain was too wired to sleep. Worries over Henry and Emma's well-being, coupled with the threat of Peter Pan hanging over their heads, made it impossible. Charming's cheek rested on her head, but she knew he was unable to sleep as well. His hand soothingly rubbed her back and she savored his comfort.

"I can't sleep as long as I know that Emma and Henry are out there," she whispered into his chest. Charming's strong arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close.

"Neither can I," he whispered back and kissed the top of her head. Tears threatened to pool under her eyelids while the defenses she upheld all day crumbled at her feet. Never did she admit defeat when it came to her family's safety, but she did have to admit that she was afraid of the challenges that would come.

"Are we doomed to continue losing her?" Sacrificing their daughter before the curse struck was terrible enough. Not a day went by after it broke that Snow did not linger over the fact that she missed every important aspect of her daughter's life. Her first words, her first steps, her first kiss...A mother should be there to protect and raise her daughter, to experience the ups and downs. But here they were, separated again.

"We'll find her, Snow. We'll find her and we'll rescue Henry. I promise," her husband breathed into her raven black hair. A soft kiss pressed to her temple and she gathered the strength to smile up at him. What would she ever do without Charming by her side? He was her true love, her heart, her rock.

"You never give up hope," she said admirably. He returned her warm smile.

"Never. You know why? No matter what tragedy befalls us, I know that we'll face it together. As long as I have my family to consider, I will always have the strength to carry on."

Gently, Charming kissed Snow on the lips, his love for her pouring in waves. Snow eagerly returned the kiss, her arms wrapping around his back and pulling him ever closer. It had been so long since they had a peaceful moment together. Inevitably, the kiss deepened and Snow found herself moaning blissfully.

"Oh, would the two of you get a room?"

A spare pillow soared out of the darkness, tumbling across the ground not far from their heads. Snow giggled into Charming's shirt, amused by Regina's disturbance. It served her right for all the things she had done to them in the past. Listening to them share a kiss wasn't even near the crimes she had committed.

Suddenly, they were startled by the rustle of bushes on the edge of the clearing. Something-or someone-was out there. Snow shot to her feet, alert and armed with her bow. Charming followed suit, wielding a thick branch like it was a javelin. Regina shed her sleeping bag and a bright flame burst into her hand. A multitude of possibilities rushed through Snow's head. What if it was Emma? Henry? Rumpelstiltskin? _Peter Pan? _

"Well? Stop being a coward and show yourself," Regina demanded.

The bushes rustled louder, followed by the thunder of running feet. Snow raised her bow higher, arrow ready to be fired. The bushes parted and a figure stepped through, slightly outlined by the glow of Regina's fire. It wasn't anyone Snow expected.

"Tamara?"

...

_**A/N: I want to thank you all for reading thus far. Also, shout-outs to those who reviewed: DragonRose4, GuestRoom, Grace5231973, Lady Avotil, Anon, SwanQueen4055, and Shizuku Tsukishima749. I appreciate all the kind words that everyone has given me. It certainly helps motivate me to write faster. I also hope everyone is enjoying Season 3 of Once so far. **_


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